Chapter 3

Her lips trembled. She didn't say anything.

A corner of his mouth quirked up. "brava ragazza." Good girl.

He spoke too fast for her to understand what he had said. But it was obvious he spoke in Italian. Very Italian. She stared at his lips, they looked luscious, and the Italian words pouring out of them was so seductive. 

She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out.

He dropped the gun from her waist.

"No one steals from a Colombo man." He turned to face Anthony. "Your daughter is coming with us. She'll be with us until you bring back what you stole from my boss."

He turned to her. His eyes were unreadable.

Lifting up his empty hand, he brought it behind her neck.

Instead of releasing her, he tightened his hold.

"We're leaving. I'm taking her with me." He informed his brothers and they nodded their heads.

"Where are we going?" Mariana questioned.

"You are asking a lot of questions."

They headed out of the church without anyone noticing anything amiss until they arrived towards a black car in the parking lot.

"Get in." He ordered.

She shook her head. "No. I'm not going anywhere with you."

His gaze flickered with displeasure. "You wouldn't like it one bit if I did it, so don't make me."

She turned to tell him she wouldn't get in, but when her gaze met his, her breath twisted in a knot. His eyes burned, deep, dark and intimidating.

She bit her lower lip and reluctantly did as she was told.

He got into the driver's door.

The engine sputtered to life and he began driving.

 "What...what do you want from me?" Her voice shook with fear.

He didn't respond or even looked at her as he navigated the twists and curves of the roads leading out of town.

She glanced up toward the front of the car and saw the traffic light ahead turning red. Now, she told herself. Just take it slow and easy.

She tried to breathe normally while letting her right hand slide unnoticed off her thighs. So far, so good. Next all she had to do was grab the door handle, jump out of the car and run as far as she could although she might get some injuries...

"Don't even think about it." He didn't raise his voice. His hands never left the wheel. He looked forward. So composed. 

She glared at him, wanting to say something but swallowed back her words.

"I know it's tempting." This time the edge of warning in his voice made Mariana's mouth go dry. "But not very smart," He paused. "Even if you manage to escape the door, I'll just have to hunt you down and drag you back. Save us both the trouble."

"Why are you doing this to me? I shouldn't be the one paying for my father's crimes." More angry now than frightened, she forced back her tears.

"My boss has a problem with your father. As his precious daughter, you're going to pay for his crimes. No more questions."

Mariana looked at him utterly speechless. There's nothing her father likes about her except from him pretending to be a good father to her in public.

Her father wouldn't even care less about them taking her. 

He didn't give her a single glance the entire drive. It was a slow and quiet ride.

What was she going to do?

She knows nothing about this man. Except for him being a part of the Mafia.

This was becoming so weird to be true but she had to believe it.

From what he had said earlier in the church, it seems her father stole from them and they are taking her to pay for the crimes she knows nothing about.

Where was he taking her to?

The silence was killing her.

She had to say something. She had to ask questions.

"Are you going to kill me?" The question escaped her without a single thought of how it might come across.

"If I have to, yes." For the first time throughout the drive, he turned his head to look at her. Grey eyes settling on hers. His stare burned her with the hot lick of a flame. Her heart tightened at the tension, resolving wavering. But then he ran a thumb on his bottom lip and looked away.

She released the breath she was holding, a frown pulling on her face.

Why wasn't she scared when he had said that?

He didn't even deny the fact that if he was given a chance to kill her, he would.

As they reached a gate she finally caught a glimpse of an estate. The gate opened automatically and Marcello drove in.

 Mariana couldn't help but take a moment in the splendour of it all. The lush green garden held a beautiful English-style, a wide pool and a mansion at the centre.

She didn't dare guess how many rooms it had. 

He pulled up to the garage, turned off the engine. 

He was about to open the door before he stopped and turned to face Mariana. 

"Look at me, girl!" 

Mariana hesitated before turning to look at him.

"Look, this is my family house. There are so many people inside as there are at doomsday. Some of them know about you, some don't. So you won't tell everything you're thinking of." He drew his statement out in a low warning. 

The realisation dawned on her that she was going to be nothing but his hostage.

Hostage.

She frowned, turning around to look out of the window.

"Ciao!" He called. She turned to face him, blinking back her tears. "Don't look away again." He warned.

When she didn't say anything else, his eyes darkened.

"Do you understand?"

"I got it." She said through gritted teeth.

"Good." He said then got out of the car. Mariana did the same.

Greta, Jacopo and Dante were sitting around a table when they walked in.

Greta glances their way in shock as she wonders who the woman beside Marcello was.

"Who is that woman?" She asked.

"Welcome, son." She smiled and her gaze drifted to Mariana. "You're welcome too."

Son? She is his mother.' Mariana thought.

Her eyes fell on the man dressed in a black suit sitting on the single chair at the centre of the table. Holding eye contact with this man seemed like a deadly game.

Fighting the shiver that rolled through her, she dropped her eyes.

"Is there an empty room upstairs?" Marcello asked Greta.

"Yes, there is. Always." She answered, looking at the beautiful woman beside her son. She wondered who she was. "Would she be our guest?"

"No." 

"So, are you going to introduce her?" She questioned.

"Not important." 

She raised a brow. "Then?"

"Let him be, Greta. Take the girl to one of the rooms upstairs. I need to have a word with Marcello." He said tersely.

Greta rolled her eyes. "Ridicolo." Ridiculous. She was used to him always driving her out when it comes to him talking business with his men.

Realisation dawned on Mariana that she just knew the name of this man. Marcello.

"You should also leave, Dante."

Mariana and Marcello stared at each other, before she followed Greta.

Jacopo turned to face Marcello after they had left.

"I'm sure you must be wondering about what I'm going to do with the girl." He said in a thoughtful voice.

Marcello's eyes darkened. He had a suspicion Jacopo was going to say something and he wouldn't like it one bit.

"I want you to marry her. Make her your wife." It wasn't a suggestion but an order.

Was he being serious?

He was Marcel Ferrari and nobody tells him what he should do or shouldn't do.

"I have no intention to get married. Let Giorgio marry her or one of your men." Marcello snapped.

"No. I want someone like me who despises the word called 'love'"

Marcello shot him a narrowed gaze. He said nothing, though he didn't have to. Jacopo was partly right and wrong. He was right about him despising the word 'love' and he was also wrong to think he was interested in a commitment right now.

He didn't do love and commitment. Tying him down would be like trying to tame a lion.

It wasn't going to happen. Not like he was even going to benefit anything from the marriage.

"You can benefit a lot from this marriage." Jacopo said as if he was reading Marcello's mind. "The girl's late mother's family is part of Black Disciples. We can merge the two gangs together through one simple thing. Marriage. You don't have to love her or stay faithful to her."

Silence filled the air–expressionless Marcello looked at his boss for a long moment without speaking

After a while, he said, "No big deal."

It's just a formality.

But how come this situation took an unexpected turn?

Was this the real reason why Jacopo made them bring the girl?

He wanted him to marry her.

What about Anthony and what he stole from Jacopo?

Marcello knew Jacopo wasn't going to let Anthony go scot free for stealing from him.

"You must be thinking about how the girl is part of a Mafia family. It's a long story cut short. The mother was blindly in love with Anthony and ran away with him." Jacopo paused then scoffed. "Love can cause people to do stupid things."

"Next time, I would like to know what you have planned."

Marcello didn't like how he had kept the real reason away from him. He wondered if Adriano and Giorgio were aware of the plan all along.

Greta opened the door to an empty room for Mariana.

"This is your room." She said, smiling.

Mariana stepped in, looking around. She doesn't want to be here.

"What is your name?" Greta asked, hoping to start a conversation with Mariana.

'I need to get out of this place. Run. I can't let them keep me here as their hostage. It's never going to happen, ' Mariana thought.

She was so busy with her thoughts that she didn't hear Greta talking to her.

"Are you deaf?" Greta snapped.

Mariana flinched.

She snorted. "I've been talking to you." 

"Who are you?" Mariana asked.

"The lady of this household."

"You are Marcello's mother?" Mariana tried to ignore the weird feeling that she had when she mentioned his name for the first time.

"Yes. Who are you to him?"

"His hostage." She blurted. "Can you help me?"

Greta studied her with cautious eyes. "Stay here." She said, walking out of the door and locking it behind her.

For a moment there, Mariana thought the woman was actually going to help her.

What was she going to do now?

She was beyond confused.

How could time fly so fast?

Some hours ago, she was dressing for church.

What were they going to do to her?

Keep her locked here forever.

A few minutes later.

A knock sounded, and a brunette not older than twenty, wearing a maid dress, entered the room. She kept her eyes lowered as she set a bowl of sauce and pasta on a side table near the bed.

"Wait." Mariana stopped her when she got to the door. "Who is Marcello?"

The maid remained quiet. Doesn't she understand English?

"Who is Marcello?" Mariana asked again.

The maid shook her head. 

"I'm not going to snitch on you if you tell me who he is."

"He is–someone who nobody wants to mess with. He is the consigliere."

Consigliere. Like an advisor. He is the advisor of a Mafia family.

"Aren't you Sir Marcello's fiancee?"

Mariana raised a brow. "I don't understand."

Confusion clouded the maid's face. "Aren't you getting married to him tomorrow morning?"

A cold sensation crawled down Mariana's throat and filled her lungs.

She must have heard her wrong. 

"You're getting married to Sir Marcello, right?"

"Married?" Mariana choked a gasp of horror.

"You're joking?" Mariana gaped at the maid with wide shocked eyes. "You have to be joking!"